by Sunny
Remember me, I wanted to say, but held back the words. For likely he would, and it would not be with fondness or affection, no matter how good my intentions were.
Then the others came, and the moment was broken.
The past could never be recaptured, I had learned. You could only go forward. And so I did. Grimly. Leading my little party of men, a group that was far from merry, to see what that tricksy fickle creature fate had in store for us.
Twenty-seven
They walked to the Council Hall, a magnificent stone structure that was a harmonious mixture of straight lines and rounded curves, of soaring domes and high ceilings. A structure built to inspire awe and reverence and fear. A place few Monère ever entered, other than those who ruled here, and those who were to be judged by them.
Other warriors talked of their time at High Court with wonder and admiration. The few times Stefan had come here, however, he had arrived in the company of one queen tiring of him, and had left in the company of a new queen tempted by his beauty. Old patterns churned Stefan’s stomach, even though he knew this to be different. And thrown into the turmoil was the wonderful, awful occasion of meeting the Queen Mother. Not that they would meet her personally. Lucinda would no doubt speak with her while they hovered in the background. But just to be in her august company … the prospect fair shook his knees.
Lucinda spoke of the Queen Mother so casually. With reverence, yes. But no fear. Much like the way she spoke of her brother. The Princess was at ease in these surroundings, and expected them to be as well. It was here, with this difference of attitude, that set Lucinda apart from the rest of them. Not her skin. Not those lethal nails. But the nonchalance with which she walked among the titans of their world. And of the world beyond.
Nice. She had described the High Prince of Hell as nice. And no doubt he was to some. But Stefan had heard of occasions, more than one, where Halcyon had been not so nice.
Much as Lucinda spoke of her brother with fondness, it was Stefan’s most ardent wish never to meet the powerful, deadly prince of darkness.
They passed two royal guards stationed at the entrance who nodded respectfully to Lucinda and eyed the rest of them suspiciously. Especially Talon whose black skin shone with dark luster against their lighter complexions, making even Lucinda seem pale in comparison. A creature of such utter blackness they had never seen before and would likely never see again.
A distinguished gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair met them within. Had not his power given him away, power greater than any Stefan had ever sensed before in a male, the gold medallion he wore, proclaiming his status, would have. Before them stood one of the few men in their long and bloody history to have ever reached that rare and most coveted status of Warrior Lord. Someone with enough power to sustain himself, able to prolong his own life independently, free from a queen and her Basking. Able to rule his own territory, if he so wished, or stay here and serve the Queen Mother, as this man had chosen to do.
“Warrior Lord Thorane,” Lucinda murmured, smiling.
The Warrior Lord swept a courtly bow over her hand, and placed a light kiss on the back of it. “Princess Lucinda. As beautiful as always.”
“In my brother’s ill-fitting clothes?” Lucinda’s dark brow arched. “You lie, Lord Thorane, though it is a gallant one.”
Stefan almost choked over the insult she had just casually given the Warrior Lord. But Lord Thorane simply smiled. “It only enhances your natural beauty.” And he told nothing but the truth. Truth that Lucinda brushed away with casual disregard.
The Warrior Lord turned to them. “Your weapons, gentlemen.”
They passed him their daggers and he handed them to a footman, who stored them in a side room that apparently served as the weapons checkin chamber.
What, no ticket or receipt? Stefan wanted to ask, but bit back the giddy, nervous impulse.
“The Queen Mother awaits you,” Lord Thorane said. He escorted them not down the wide hallway that led to the circular chamber where the Council officially met, but down another narrow corridor, stopping before a simple closed door that was only remarkable because of the two royal guards stationed before it. He gave a perfunctory knock then opened it. “Please enter. She is expecting you.”
Lucinda stepped inside the room. When Stefan moved off to the side, as if to wait outside in the corridor, Lord Thorane looked at him and said, “You, too, gentlemen. She is most eager to meet you all.”
Such piercing eyes, Stefan thought, as Lord Thorane ushered them into what appeared to be the Queen Mother’s private study, a room lined wall to wall with books, with the scent of leather and old pages filling the air like a faint perfume.
But if Stefan had thought Lord Thorane’s eyes piercing, the ones that met his now caused him to quickly alter his opinion. Here was piercing. They were blue like a sunlit sky, a sky most Monère never saw. And they were just as vast, as endless, as impersonal. Eyes that looked down deep into your soul and passed judgment.
Only a brief glance from those all-seeing eyes, and it left Stefan shaken.
Other details came to him once those eyes passed over him and moved on to the others. Lines of age creased the Queen Mother’s face. Wrinkles looked upon with reverence because they were almost unheard of among the Monère, a people whose skins remained unlined up until their very last days. The rare marks of age declared that she wasn’t just old, she was ancient.
The children of the moon lived up to three hundred years. The Queen Mother was the sole exception among their kind; she had lived far beyond that allotted time. How much beyond it, no one was certain. Those soft wrinkles only enhanced the weighty power emanating from this small woman who dressed simply but sat so regally in a chair set behind a mahogany desk. A large bejeweled ring upon her finger was her only adornment. A book was in her hands, and a pile of scribbled notes stacked neatly to the side.
“Lucinda,” the Queen Mother said. Her voice resonated with an almost aching age. “How good to see you again, and only months after your last visit instead of waiting your usual century or two.”
Lucinda knelt. They followed her example, falling to their knees behind her, their heads bowed, Talon’s so low that he was almost kissing the ground.
“Venerable Queen Mother,” Lucinda said and rose. Uncertain of what to do, the rest of them erred on the cautious side and remained kneeling as Lord Thorane came to stand beside the Queen he had chosen to spend the rest of his life serving.
“I am told that these are your men, child,” the Queen Mother said.
Child? Stefan thought. A demon who had existed for over six hundred years?
Lucinda’s next words caught his attention. “That is only partially true.”
The Queen Mother’s brow lifted. “Is it? Pray tell what part is true, and what part is not?”
Lucinda hesitated, and unease trailed down Stefan’s spine like a ghostly finger. “What I would speak of, perhaps, might be best for your ears alone, revered Mother.”
The revered mother waved Lucinda’s request aside. “The room is bespelled, Lucinda, as you know. No ears other than ours shall hear what you say, and Lord Thorane serves as my right hand. He is aware of all matters pertaining to the Court, which my instincts tell me this will fall under.”
“Your instincts are correct.” Lucinda gestured behind her. “This is Nico, the rogue that the High Council requested my aid in returning to Queen Mona SiGuri.”
What might have been wry amusement in another flashed in those sky blue eyes. “Is that what you are doing, Lucinda, bringing the rogue here to return to her?”
“No, I have done that already. Returned him to her,” Lucinda clarified.
“Did you? Then why is he here now with you?”
Stefan’s nerves were jangling now, his instincts—instincts that had never failed him before—warning him of some impending danger. Nico, however, knelt in calm peacefulness, in utter trust.
“I returned him, Queen Mother,” Lucinda said. “The
n I claimed him as my own. And Nico has accepted my claim.”
A movement passed over those lips, smoothing out before they had a chance to form. “Rise,” she bid, “all of you,” and they did.
Those piercing blue eyes studied Nico for an intent moment. “Is this true, Warrior Nico?”
He replied calmly, “Yes, revered Mother.”
She pursed her lips. Said mildly, “I’d imagine Mona SiGuri was far from pleased.”
“She tried to stop me from leaving,” Lucinda informed her.
“Did she?” the Queen Mother murmured. “Silly girl.”
Lucinda smiled sharply in agreement. “Her treatment of her people leaves much to be desired. But that is a minor issue compared to what I discovered in her attempt to detain me. I took another from her besides Nico.” Turning, she drew Talon forward, a quivering arrow of darkness. He’d begun to shiver again. “This is Talon. He is a creature from my realm, secretly brought here as an infant child over twenty-six years ago by another demon and placed in Mona SiGuri’s hands to raise.”
“Over six and twenty years …” Those blue eyes sharpened. “I was not aware of this.”
“No, Queen Mother. No one was. What this rogue demon did violated many of our rules, for which he must be punished. The matter is further complicated by the fact that he was once the guardian known as Derek.”
“I met him before,” the Queen Mother murmured. “He still roams free?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“So I was mistaken,” she said abruptly. “It is a demon matter.”
“You were not mistaken, revered Mother, though you are correct that Halcyon will want this matter investigated and handled by our people. He will want Mona SiGuri and her people questioned.”
The Queen Mother waved her ringed hand and said in a cool voice, “He has the Court’s permission to do anything that he wishes, short of killing Mona SiGuri.”
Lucinda inclined her head. “Thank you, Queen Mother. The other matter that I bring before you, however, is very much a Court matter. Or so I would hope.”
His instincts clamoring now, Stefan turned and looked at Lucinda, willed her fiercely to look at him. But she didn’t.
“The other warrior here at my side is Stefan, another rogue that I came across. And the Mixed Blood is Jonnie, his ward that he raised among the humans.” Lucinda paused, uncharacteristically hesitant.
Look at me! Turn around and look at me, Stefan silently commanded.
She didn’t. She took a breath—a sign of agitation—and continued on like a disaster that could not be averted. “I had claimed these two as mine, also. But I did so hastily, with thought only of my needs, not theirs. Until this rogue demon is captured and terminated, they will not be safe anywhere other than here at High Court.”
“And after the rogue demon is captured,” the Queen Mother prompted gently.
“I still cannot Bask,” Lucinda said with a slight catch. She sank down on bended knee. “Blessed Queen Mother, I ask most humbly that you consider taking Stefan and Jonnie into your service. I know that it is an honor few warriors are granted, but I would ask this of you as a personal favor.”
No! Stefan’s screamed silently. Don’t do this!
The Queen Mother looked at him, those piercing blue eyes weighing him for a brief timeless moment before she rose and walked around the desk. Gently she grasped Lucinda’s hands and pulled the demon Princess back onto her feet.
“Lucinda,” she said, that lined face softening. “The debt we owe you and your family can never be fully tallied or repaid. Were it my choice alone, I would grant you your request.”
Lucinda looked up, stricken, confused. “What do you mean, revered Mother?”
“I mean, child, that such service requires a willingness from both parties. I would be most willing to accept them, but I fear that is not the case on your man’s part.”
“My man?”
“On Stefan’s part,” the Queen Mother clarified. “The warrior you are trying to give away. He does not seem to want to leave you, child.”
Lucinda looked up into Stefan’s face and flinched at what she saw in his eyes.
“What do you wish, Warrior Stefan?” the Queen Mother asked, not unkindly.
Stefan didn’t just kneel. He fell to his hands and knees, prostrating himself before the Queen Mother. “Most revered Queen Mother.” His voice trembled. Not with fear, but with the rage he could barely contain. “You honor me most greatly. But it is a position I cannot accept because I am already bound in the service of another.”
“I release you,” Lucinda said faintly.
He lifted his face from the ground and speared her with eyes that burned raw and intense.
“But I do not release you,” Stefan gritted, almost biting off the words as he rose to his feet to tower over the diminutive demon like an angry storm cloud ready to burst, his hands clenched at his side. “All other ladies I have served selected me, I had little choice. But I chose you! And you accepted me. I hold you now to that bond.”
Lord Thorane moved protectively between them. An ironic gesture, Stefan noted, as what he tried to protect—Lucinda—could have easily ripped him into bloody pieces with a few quick slashes.
“It’s all right,” Lucinda murmured. She stepped around the Warrior Lord to put her hand on Stefan’s arm. To plead openly with him. “Stefan, please. It’s a position few warriors are ever offered in their lifetime.”
“I have the position I want,” he repeated.
“The position you want will kill you in thirty years if not sooner! Here at High Court you can live for the next ninety-five years with honor and respect and the satisfaction of worthwhile service, returning to the Monèrian way of life: Basking. Regaining your vitality.”
“No,” he said stubbornly.
“You are a fool!” Lucinda spat, her dark eyes flashing fire.
“Yes, I am!” He leaned down until his face was only a breath away from hers. “I want only you.”
Her face crumpled. “Stupid, foolish rogue.”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely, his hands coming up to frame her face. “But I am your stupid, foolish rogue. You accepted me and I will not let you go.”
Lucinda shook her head helplessly, her eyes swimming red with tears.
Lord Thorane cleared his throat.
Brought back into awareness of their audience, Stefan’s hands dropped away from her face.
The Queen Mother’s voice broke into the awkward, appalled silence. Awkward on Lucinda’s part over her display of emotion. Appalled on the part of the others over Stefan’s rejection of a position most warriors would give their left and even right nuts for. And his presumptuous insistence—not request, but insistence!—on holding Lucinda to her word. In claiming her and not letting go. Way overstepping his bounds.
“I do not think he will allow you to give him up, my dear.” A smile played upon that wrinkled face. “A most un-Monère attitude, but then he has been long away from us.”
“Forgive me, Queen Mother, if I offended you,” Stefan said, forcing calm into his voice. “That was not my intention.”
Another wave of that ringed hand. “Don’t be silly, my boy.”
Coming from someone whose hair was completely silver white, Stefan let the “my boy” comment pass by. Who was he to complain when she called Lucinda “child”?
“Lucinda, dear,” the Queen Mother continued. “There are other options that you perchance may not have considered.”
“What options, Queen Mother?” Lucinda asked in a ragged voice.
“I would be most happy to have you and your men—” She stressed the two last words with a little smile. “—here as our guests for as long as you need stay. Until you are assured once more of their safety. During that time, they may Bask here with me. Afterward, if need be, they can return here each full moon. Although by that time, I suspect that you will have found another queen closer to your province willing to share her light with them … without y
our sacrifice of giving them up.”
The generosity of the Queen Mother’s offer left Lucinda reeling. Her eyes lifted to Stefan. His blue green eyes were a swirl of beseechment, of demand. Of a hard, fierce glittering hope.
Accept it! those eyes cried. Accept me!
With an inner sigh, she did.
“Thank you, Queen Mother,” Lucinda said, bowing. “I accept your generous offer.”
Twenty-eight
Lord Thorane himself noted the service contract entries down in a ledger. Stefan, Jonnie, Nico, and even Talon signed beneath my bold flourish. They were officially mine now, and I was their lady, whom they had pledged to serve. For how long, no one knew. Maybe only for the next few minutes.
I requested that Lord Thorane inform my brother, Halcyon, of all that had occurred if I did not return in the next few weeks.
“I will, Princess,” Lord Thorane assured me outside in the corridor. “But you will likely be able to tell him yourself first.”
One could only hope.
The same footman who had taken our weapons retrieved them and returned them to us, and we bid Lord Thorane farewell.
“Where to, now?” Nico asked quietly as we departed the Council Hall.
“So eager, Nico?” I asked.
“No,” he said honestly. “But neither would I delay you.”
“Always so aware of ticking time.” I led them down a path that wound behind the Great House. When we were near enough to the forest edge, I stopped.
“Do you feel it?” I asked Talon.
The Floradëur closed his eyes, turning in a half circle. Through our link, I felt his senses expand. The gathering of it first like a tight lasso around him, then casting it out in a wide, arching radius. Spreading, searching, seeking. And finally finding.
Facing the southwest rim of the forest, he opened his eyes. “There,” he said.
“Take us there,” I said, and he did, leading us with silent sureness deep into the woods. A mile in, Talon stopped suddenly. “It’s here,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on something the others could not see.